


talk some sense to me

by sapphfics



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:31:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11846856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphfics/pseuds/sapphfics
Summary: "It feels as though each time you see me your life gets considerably worse." Mary sighs, shutting her eyes for a brief second as she tries to remember how to breathe.Maybe she's been cursed by some vindictive ancient to only bring pain and suffering into people's lives with just a glance at her plain face, though she cannot think which being she has offended so greatly. Perhaps it's the way her heart is aching for Sonya's soft eyes and sweet smile."On the contrary," Sonya says, voice quiet and small. "Every time I see you, the misery of everyday life fades, if only for a short time."





	talk some sense to me

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the Great Fic Exchange of 1812, with the prompt was "Sonya/Mary - I think we could like each other in better circumstances which are nonexistent (with reference to later parts of War and Peace)."

It is midwinter and the snow surrounding the house is already turning to a grey mush, the murky mist of a cloud before it rains.

Sonya's not entirely sure what she's doing here, much less what she is going to say.

Yet, here she is, waiting at the door, and all she can think of is Natasha, who has hardly smiled since she returned from this house. She shivers, and wraps the shawl tighter around her shoulders. The only thing she wants is Natasha's happiness.

"Sofia Rostova?" Mary looks a little confused and more than a little frightened.

"Please, do call me Sonya," Sonya smiles, small and bright and holds out her hand. "I understand you had some misunderstandings with my cousin and I would -"

Sonya is abruptly cut off as a man - who she assumes must be Prince Bolkonsky - screams something about vodka amid other obscenities. Mary sighs, shaking Sonya's hand lightly and quickly. 

Mary bites her lip and can't seem to meet Sonya's eyes.

"Come inside," Mary's voice is so quiet, it's as if she's afraid she will anger the man inside by so much as speaking beyond that volume, even though he surely isn't able to hear her from the hallway. "I am afraid my father is not receiving visitors at this time."

"That's quite alright," Sonya assures her, lowering the volume of her voice as well.

Mary doesn't say it, but she is grateful.

//

The manor's drawing room has enough furniture to house several families, Sonya notes. People enjoy Mary's father, or so they claim.

Maybe they, too, are scared of him. Mary would not be surprised.

It is this room that Mary leads Sonya into. Sonya sits down on a sofa and insists Mary sit next to her. Perhaps it is so they can talk quietly without her father hearing.

"I will admit, that I've been in deep despair at the misunderstanding there is between us," Mary admits, and she almost looks on the verge of tears. "I don't care what my father thinks. I can't help loving her."

"You are not the first person to say that," Sonya acknowledges. "I'm sure, if you tell Natasha this, she'll forgive you."

"I would, but I don't really leave the house." Mary whispers. "Who would take care of him?"

"Don't you have a doctor or a house maid?" Sonya asks.

"He scares them off," Mary says. "He always has."

"Oh," Sonya grimaces. "Perhaps we could -"

Just then, Prince Bolkonsky enters with all the gravitas of an ageing bear.

"Ah!" Prince Bolkonsky half-yells, and points to Sonya. "You must be the harlot's cousin!"

"What did you just say?" Sonya hisses. "Natasha is not -"

"Could've fooled me," Prince Bolkonsky shrugs and some of the powder from his wig falls on his shoulders. "But that is beside the point, what are you doing here? Surely, you are not after my son's affections, are you?"

"Nothing of the sort," Sonya proclaims, somewhat aghast. She's never liked men that much, and her happiness with her current engagement is far more forced than she would admit in polite company.

"Excellent," Prince Bolkonsky claps his hands and Mary snaps to attention. "Mary, why haven't you brought our guest some tea?"  
  
"Well, I wasn't sure if she was going to leave, or if you wanted her to stay, Father," Mary counters.

"Of course she can dine with us," Prince Bolkonsky says, more of a command to Sonya than anything else. "Now, fetch the tea, and be quick about it."

"Certainly," Mary grits her teeth and does as she is told, and Sonya wishes she could do more than watch.

//

"I must admit, it is nice to see my foolish daughter bring someone home," Prince Bolkonsky laughs, coldly and maliciously. "Though, I am quite sure she must have bribed you. She has no friends, and I am sure you can see why."

Sonya grits her teeth and wonders how this man can think himself worthy to so much as breathing the same air as Mary.

Perhaps, God took all of the goodness out of the old man's soul and gifted it to his daughter. With this in mind, Sonya feels as though she is beginning to make sense of this desolate place.

Mary is gripping her butter knife so fiercely her knuckles are white.  
She could hurt him, Sonya thinks, but she never ever would, right?  
However, Sonya might should he continue to speak of his daughter in such a horrifying manner.

"Actually, Sir," Sonya says. "I find your daughter is rather remarkable."

 _She is also brave and incredibly resilient,_ Sonya thinks, _to have put up with such a pompous man for so many years._

Although Sonya supposes, the house might be more pleasant when Andrey is there.

(But he is not here. And, though Sonya hates to consider it, it's beginning to feel as if he may never come home, and Natasha is growing more and more restless by each passing moment without him by her side, and Sonya is terrified.)

"You flatter me," Mary says, almost shocked. Sonya wonders if anyone's ever complimented her before, or if she's just never believed them, or both. "You are too good, Countess."

"I know," Sonya says. "It doesn't mean what I say is false."

//

On a cold, dark and soundless night, with a wind which whispers of storms to come, her father's face grows stern and angry.  
Suddenly, he makes a move as if to punch her and Mary ducks.

"What is it?" Mary asks, shaking. "I-I have done nothing."

Her father sighs, as though he is growing tired of her entire existence. "You don't have to do anything."

//

Sonya finds her later that night and holds her whilst Mary cries and they both listen to the sound of Prince Bolkonsky being hit by Marya's fierce unrelenting wrath.

"I wrote Natasha a letter," Mary hands Sonya the envelope. "Will you make sure she receives it?"

"Yes," Sonya tucks the letter into her pocket. "I'm glad you trust me enough to do so."

"Here, you're the only person I can trust," Mary says. "That's why I - that's why you're amazing."

Sonya beams up at her and Mary's insides melt.

//

Snow is falling faster now, turning the air colder by the day, and Sonya admits that her cousin believes she has fallen for someone else, and Mary does not know what to say, what to do.

But -

"It feels as though each time you see me your life gets considerably worse." Mary sighs, shutting her eyes for a brief second as she tries to remember how to breathe.

Maybe she's been cursed by some vindictive ancient to only bring pain and suffering into people's lives with just a glance at her plain face, though she cannot think which being she has offended so greatly. Perhaps it's the way her heart is aching for Sonya's soft eyes and sweet smile.

"On the contrary," Sonya says, voice quiet and small. "Every time I see you, the misery of everyday life fades, if only for a short time."

"Really?" Mary asks, tentative and quiet.

"Yes," Sonya confirms. "I suppose I sound rather silly, don't I?"

"No," Mary assures her. "Never."

Mary says nothing more and Sonya leaves without finishing her tea.

Everything seems darker without Sonya around.

//

After everything, Mary finds Sonya at her door again, tears streaming down her face.

Mary has never seen Sonya so vulnerable before and hurries her inside without Sonya's request.

They sit in the front of the fire, and the snow melts out of Sonya's hair, the light reflecting in her eyes.

"I tried," Sonya chokes out. "I tried so hard. She just - just turned me away like I was nothing."

"You are not nothing," Mary defends. "You could never be nothing. Come, tell me what happened. It's not as if I have anyone I could gossip about you to, and it may help, I don't know."

So, Mary sits and listens as Sonya recounts all that has happened, and at the end, Sonya is holding her hand as if she never wants to let go.

"It's not your fault," Mary comforts. "None of it. You were only trying to protect her."

"Thank you," Sonya says.  
Mary glances at Sonya's lips and thinks about kissing her, but does nothing.

Sonya doesn't need her. No one needs her.

//

From the inside of a carriage, Mary watches Moscow burn.

She will most likely never see Sonya again.

So, Mary closes her eyes and prays. For better times, for the future, for another life where she and Sonya can be happy together.

She just hopes she will get her wish, however long it takes.


End file.
